


lost and found

by changintheworLd



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Getting Together, M/M, Oikawa and Akaashi are roommates, Pining, They're In Love Your Honor, akaashi is a struggling english major, bokuto is the college ace, could i make it any more obvious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/changintheworLd/pseuds/changintheworLd
Summary: “I’m not mad,” Akaashi said, which he felt should have been self-explanatory, “I just forgot something at the library and have to go get it before it closes.”“I can come with you if you want.” Bokuto offered.Apparently Akaashi had underestimated Bokuto’s generosity.Or: Akaashi loses his folder and finds Bokuto along the way
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 20
Kudos: 196





	1. Lost

When he saw Bokuto Koutarou barreling towards him, Akaashi immediately turned around and began to walk in the opposite direction.

Akaashi knew Bokuto, if only in the most general sense. He knew Bokuto through Kenma (who knew Bokuto through Kuroo) so really he was just a friend of a friend of a friend. The sort of acquaintance Akaashi only saw at parties, and he didn’t go to a lot of those.

The last time they had seen each other (or more accurately, were in each other’s vicinity) was Kuroo’s birthday party, a few months back. Akaashi attended only because Kenma insisted that he needed just one more introvert present. For most of the party, he remained on the outside of it, leaning on the wall, pretending to sip at his drink. Kenma would join him, every so often, before being dragged off somewhere by a blacked out Kuroo, but for the most part Akaashi watched the party. This generally equated to watching Bokuto, who always seemed to be at the center of the action, wherever that may be.

As he watched Bokuto, a small seed of revulsion blossomed in the pit of Akaashi’s stomach. In that moment, he thought he saw Bokuto for who he was. One of those people who peaked in high school, who would forever be chasing their glory days. Someone who constantly posed and postured in the hopes of being admired. The person who everyone insisted they liked, simply because it seemed too cruel to say otherwise. 

“Did you not hear me? Akaashi! Hey!”

Akaashi had already participated in a two hour discussion about The Picture of Dorian Gray, then an essay editing workshop with a relentlessly chatty partner and after that sat in the library editing until the words swam on the page. He really wasn’t up for this. But it was becoming increasingly clear that Akaashi could not outrun Bokuto, so with a long-suffering sigh, Akaashi turned around.

“Hello, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi made a show of taking his earphones out, first the left, then the right. Some plausible deniability for why he hadn’t heard Bokuto’s calls the first ten times.

“So you weren’t avoiding me.” Bokuto smiled in what seemed to be relief, his golden eyes crinkling at the sides. There was something different about the man’s appearance and it took a second for Akaashi to realize that this was because his normally spiky hair was squashed under a black beanie. Even without the added height, Bokuto was still taller than him, which Akaashi noted with some displeasure.

“Sorry.” Akaashi said because he didn’t know what else to say.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Bokuto laughed, the sort of laugh that could only be described as booming. “You just turned around so suddenly when I first called out to you that I thought that I made you mad or something.”

“I’m not mad,” Akaashi said, which he felt should have been self-explanatory, “I just forgot something at the library and have to go get it before it closes.”

Here it was. The escape plan. Tell Bokuto he had to go, say goodbye, and take a different way home. It was a longer walk, an inconvenience in the cold, but at least Akaashi would be alone.

“I can come with you if you want.” Bokuto offered.

Apparently Akaashi had underestimated Bokuto’s generosity.

“Are you headed to the library?” He asked, keeping his voice level so as to not betray his dismay.

“Nah, I was just wandering, looking for something to do. If you want a second pair of eyes I’m your guy. I’ve been told I’m a pretty good finder.” Bokuto puffed his chest out with his hands on his hips. This was followed by a brief pause where Akaashi stared back blankly which caused him to deflate a bit, “As long as it’s okay with you,”

“It’s fine.” Akaashi replied too fast only because he wanted Bokuto to stop pouting. It was the sort of expression that might cause people to stare. “Just give me a second to check my bag one more time.”

Escape attempt number two: Akaashi could look inside his backpack, pretend that whatever he lost had been there all along, and head home. Running his fingers over each belonging in turn, he took a mental tally. Laptop, charger, keys, pencil case, book, notepad. Akaashi’s heart skipped a beat. He went through again. Laptop, charger, keys, pencil case, book, notepad. Laptop, charger, keys, pencil case, book, notepad. Fuck. This had to be some sort of perverse cosmic joke. Where was his folder?

“What did you lose?” Bokuto stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and leaned in as Akaashi abandoned all self-control and began to rifle through his bag violently. 

“My folder. It has all of my writing in it.” Akaashi stopped short at emptying the contents of his bag out onto the filthy sidewalk and zipped it shut with a sigh.

“Writing?”

“For my creative writing class. This one piece is worth thirty percent of our grade and the professor won’t accept late work under any condition,” Akaashi didn’t even want to think about what would happen if he had to write and edit ten pages in one night, “It’s due tonight but I haven’t typed it all up yet.”

“Don’t worry,” Bokuto slapped Akaashi on the shoulder. A rough gesture but oddly comforting. “I’ll help you find it. I’m sure someone found it and gave it to the front desk.”

\---

No one had given it to the front desk, although Bokuto and the front desk attendant had the same Starbucks order (iced caramel macchiato, extra caramel) and also a few mutual friends (names that Akaashi did not recognize). Akaashi tolerated the conversation for only a minute before dragging Bokuto to check the table where he had sat.

“Are you sure that this was where you were sitting?” Bokuto asked, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. Unlike Akaashi, who shed all his winter gear at the door, Bokuto remained bundled up for the cold weather. This resulted in a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his cheeks to turn a bright red. Somehow, Akaashi noticed, this did nothing to deter the admiring stares of nearby girls.

Akaashi ran his hands through his hair and sighed, “One hundred percent sure.”

Akaashi was a creature of habit, and as such, he sat at the same table every day. If it was taken, he would sit at a table close by and glare at the unlucky person in his spot until they moved. In his defense, it was a good spot. First floor, so he didn’t have to climb any stairs; by the window so he could get some natural light; small, so no one would sit with him uninvited.

“We can always check the recycling, maybe someone thought it was trash and threw it away.”

“I’ll just fail the class.” Akaashi groaned as he sunk into a nearby chair.

Bokuto frowned and remained standing. He would have made for an intimidating figure if not for the puffy yellow jacket zipped all the way to the bottom of his chin. “Do you have a backup somewhere that you can use?”

“No. I never write on my computer. All the copies that I have are in that folder.”

“You should really have some backups.”

“That is becoming obvious.” Akaashi snapped, but immediately regretted it when he looked back up at Bokuto. His face betrayed no anger or annoyance, just a faint surprise, maybe disappointment. Guilt crept up Akaashi’s throat. He wished that Bokuto would get mad at him, yell at him, walk out on him maybe. That would have been easier to deal with. He sighed softly, “Sorry. I’m just frustrated because I need a good grade in this class for my major. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, Bokuto-san.”

“It’s fine.” Bokuto waved Akaashi off, and he seemed to mean it. “I’m friends with Kenma so I’m used to it.”

A laugh escaped Akaashi’s lips, surprising them both. “Yeah I bet you are.”

Bokuto grinned back. “So is rummaging through the recycling bin still on the table?”

“I couldn’t make you do that,” Akaashi said.

Bokuto shrugged. “I’ve done it before.”

“I’m not sure if I want to know why you would ever do that.”

“I was just trying to earn some extra cash and Kuroo bet me that I couldn’t find three-“ Bokuto trailed off, his gaze focused on something in the distance. Akaashi turned around to see what had caught his eyes, to see a raven haired girl, in an oversized university sweatshirt stooped over some notes. She was pretty. His girlfriend?

“Kiyoko-san!” Bokuto waved with both arms, already heading in her direction.

She gave a small wave in response, mouth twitching up in bemusement. Akaashi remained rooted to the spot.

“Akaashi, this is Kiyoko from my nutrition class.” Bokuto had obviously never heard of a library voice as he wildly beckoned Akaashi to join in on the conversation. Akaashi hurried over, only because he didn’t want Bokuto to draw any more attention to them. 

Bokuto was the bridge in the introductions, eagerly describing Kiyoko as a “genius pre-med” who was practically carrying him through nutrition (so not his girlfriend then). Judging from the papers strewn around her, covered in a small, even font, Kiyoko was probably less genius and more studious, although there was no denying that she was intelligent. Bokuto asked her a few questions about their nutrition homework and she answered each in a level, succinct manner.

“How long have you been studying here?” Bokuto asked after she finished explaining lactose intolerance to the both of them.

“Since 4.”

Bokuto gasped loudly, and Akaashi shushed him. This wasn’t the quiet floor, but there was an unspoken rule to talk as quietly, and as little as possible. While it was relatively empty around them, a few students poked their heads up to glare at the group.

Bokuto switched to a dramatic stage whisper; Akaashi couldn’t decide whether that was an improvement or not.

“Kiyoko-san was here when you left your folder.” Kiyoko gave them both a confused head tilt and Bokuto quickly elaborated, “We’re here because ‘Kaashi left a folder here with a really important assignment in it.”

Akaashi didn’t particularly appreciate the nickname but let it slide because Bokuto was about to save his grade in one of his most important classes. “I left it on that table over there. Did you see anyone take it?”

“I think I saw one of the library staff pick it up.” Kiyoko tapped her uncapped pen on her cheek, leaving a small, blue smudge each time.

Akaashi decided that he liked Kiyoko. Immediately he could tell she was a kindred spirit of sorts: sleep deprived, running on coffee, wearing a sweatshirt that had seen better days. Besides that, the mere fact that she was tutoring Bokuto must mean that she was a saint.

“Do you know which one?” Bokuto asked.

“The grumpy one,” Kiyoko answered immediately, a testament to the hours she spent in this particular library, “The one with bleached hair with grown out roots. He usually works the front desk.”

“Kenma.” Bokuto and Akaashi said in unison, turning to smile at each other, Bokuto with a toothy grin, Akaashi with a small upturn of his lips.

“I’ll call him.” Bokuto pulled out his phone from his pocket, “Thanks Kiyoko!”

“No problem,” She said with a smile and a wave, “I’m glad I could help.”

Bokuto walked away and Akaashi trailed after him, following him out of the main study area and into the foyer.

Bokuto was different from what Akaashi had expected. Perhaps it hadn’t been fair to judge him so harshly from a single party (especially a party at which Bokuto had been so inebriated). Based on Bokuto’s interactions with the front desk worker and then Kiyoko, it was obvious that Akaashi had missed something.

It wasn’t a fluke that the front desk worker chatted so calmly, or that Kiyoko smiled so easily. It was Bokuto. Bokuto leaned into each conversation with every fiber of his being, attentively listening and responding and putting the other person at ease. Bokuto was a people person, and even more than that, he was someone who was so genuinely invested in others that it was almost impossible not to be drawn in.

Once Akaashi noticed this, it was hard to shake the way his spine prickled when that laser-like focus was on him. However loudly Bokuto talked, he levelled an equally quiet gaze on Akaashi. Noticing Akaashi’s tells, figuring out what made him tick. Akaashi had a feeling that Bokuto didn’t even realize he was doing this, that it was an unconscious reflex, that Bokuto never gave any thought as to  _ how  _ he knew these sorts of things, he just did.

“Hey Ken!” Bokuto smiled into the phone as he paced around the small area in front of an underappreciated painting in the library lobby, “Do you have Akaashi’s folder?”

A brief silence ensued, made comical only when Bokuto slapped himself on the forehead in mock chagrin, “Right, sorry. No nicknames. So do you have it?”

Another brief silence, where Akaashi could imagine Kenma rolling his eyes and firing off an annoyed response.

“I ran into him when he realized that he forgot something and I offered to help him,” Bokuto was still smiling which would have been unnerving had the smile not been genuine.

“Yep! I’ll tell him. Thanks Kenma.”

Bokuto hung up the phone and turned to Akaashi, “Kenma says that he’ll be at his apartment all day so you can swing by whenever you want to pick it up.”

“Thanks.” Akaashi squinted at Bokuto, as though looking close enough would make him reveal all his secrets, “You didn’t need to call him though. I could have texted him.”

“I don’t mind,” Bokuto said with a shrug, “It was nice to talk to Kenma.”

Akaashi silently nodded. Bokuto seemed to be telling the truth which was shocking. Phone calls with Kenma were usually anything but nice.

“Are you going to Kenma’s now?” Bokuto asked.

They were stood on the library’s front steps, cold wind cutting through his jacket. Akaashi briefly wished that he had worn his heavy ski jacket instead of his thin black windbreaker. 

His shoulders shuddered as he stuffed his hands deeper in his pockets. “Yeah. The sooner I can get it, the sooner I can stop worrying about it.”

“I can walk with you if you want.” Bokuto offered. He said it so easily Akaashi began to feel a bit envious that he hadn’t said it himself. Bokuto continued, “I haven’t dropped in on Kuroo in a while.”

The concept of ‘dropping in’ on a friend was foreign to Akaashi but he pretended like it wasn’t and nodded. Bokuto started walking down the stairs and Akaashi noticed that his scarf was trailing on the ground behind him, collecting mushy snow and dirt.

“Bokuto-san. Wait.” Akaashi called out, the loudest he had been all day. “Your scarf-“

Akaashi ran to grab the end of the red scarf from the ground, but paused before handing it to Bokuto, instead running his thumb over the soft material.

“Where did you buy it? I’ve never seen a scarf this long before.”

“I made it.” Bokuto laughed, and it was only when Akaashi could feel the breath of it brush past his ear that he realized he was standing very close to Bokuto. He took a step back.

“You made it?” Akaashi tried to imagine Bokuto sitting still long enough to knit a scarf. The picture was hard to grasp.

“In high school I had an appendectomy, and had to stay in the hospital for a week or so. It was really hard for me to just sit still and watch TV all day so my mom taught me how to knit.” Bokuto tilted his head up to smile at the sky, “It gave my hands something to do. I just kept knitting my scarf until they told me I could leave. That’s why it’s so long.”

Akaashi handed it to Bokuto. “You did a good job, it looks professional.”

Well that was a stupid thing to say. It wasn’t as though the world was teeming with professional knitters. What did that even mean? The weird phrase didn’t seem to bother Bokuto who thanked Akaashi with another toothy grin (how many years of braces would it take to get teeth that straight?) and knotted the scarf in the front.

“So are you ever going to finish telling me how Kuroo-san got you to go through a recycling bin?” Akaashi asked, less because he wanted to know, more because he wondered if this would make Bokuto laugh.

It did. Great guffaws that left Bokuto clutching his sides while Akaashi looked on in bemusement.

“I forgot to tell you, didn’t I?” Bokuto said, and Akaashi felt it again, that careful eye.

That feeling of being watched didn’t go away, even throughout Bokuto’s drawn out story about sandwich wrappers and Akaashi wondered how much Bokuto actually saw. He wondered if Bokuto saw him gritting his jaw so his teeth wouldn’t chatter, or if he just happened to realize that he had an extra pair of gloves to lend Akaashi at that moment. He wondered if Bokuto saw his discomfort when they started talking about parties, or if he all of the sudden remembered a story that changed the subject. Akaashi wondered if Bokuto saw his annoyance when he first chased Akaashi down, and he wondered if Bokuto knew why his annoyance had dissipated over the time that they spent together.

Exactly how much did Bokuto know? And why did Akaashi want to know the answer to that question so badly? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first attempt at Bokuaka so hopefully I'm doing okay haha. If this looks familiar, it's because I posted it like a month ago and got self conscious. But! Not deleting this time I promise, now I have the full work complete, all I have to do is go through and edit :)
> 
> If you enjoyed, let me know in the comments! I really enjoy reading them and they help me stay motivated lol
> 
> Also special thanks to my friend, Gabrielle for dragging me through writing this. ily


	2. The Folder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cue the Supporting Cast and Exposition

Akaashi both loved and hated the apartment building that Kenma and Kuroo lived in, which was sleek, modern, and brand-new. He loved walking into the lobby with its bright, white floors and pressing the shiny button for the elevator which ran so smoothly that sometimes Akaashi didn’t realize that it had even started until the doors opened to a different floor. He loved pretending that he lived here; that he, like most of those living in this building, had a relatively well paying job, with room to grow.

Akaashi hated the building because none of this was true. He hated it because once he left, he would go back to the dorm, with its eternal layer of grunge and elevators that broke on a biweekly basis. Although this discrepancy was not caused by Akaashi’s lack of wealth, rather by Kenma and Kuroo’s surplus of it, that did little to ease Akaashi’s jealousy. He had no idea how they, both still college students, were able to afford an apartment in a building that primarily catered to the 26-year old suit-wearing professionals of the area.

“Are you sure Kenma’s home?” Akaashi rubbed his temple after Bokuto’s knock went unanswered for the fifth time. “He should be able to hear you knocking.”

This wasn’t necessarily a comment on the size of Kenma’s apartment, rather on how hard Bokuto was knocking on the door. 

Bokuto slumped his shoulders and glared at the door as though it had some part to play in their predicament, “He said that he would be at the apartment for the rest of the day. Maybe he’s ignoring us?”

Akaashi sighed, “I should have texted him and told him that we were on our way.”

Bokuto began pounding on the door without pause. Akaashi leaned on the wall besides the door and winced under the stare of a neighbor who passed by. Judging from the shiny gold watch, an accountant maybe, or a lawyer. _I don’t know him,_ Akaashi tried to tell them with his eyes, _we just happen to be visiting the same apartment at the same time._ They didn’t look convinced. Akaashi’s face burned red.

When Kenma finally opened the door, the first thing that Akaashi noticed was the scowl on his face. Bokuto on the other hand, was frozen mid-knock before his face melted into a smile.

“Have you never heard of texting?” Kenma asked, wringing out his dripping wet hair into a towel.

“Is Kuroo home?” Bokuto craned his neck to see past Kenma into the apartment, not that there was much to see.

The front entrance of the apartment was a short hallway, adapted by Kuroo and Kenma into a mud room of sorts, with shoes lined up neatly by the front door and coats hung on hooks. The kitchen and living room and the doors to their bedrooms were only visible once you turned the corner.

Kenma’s frown deepened, “Yes but-”

Bokuto didn’t wait for Kenma to finish before shouting “BRO!” and shoving his way past Kenma and around the corner.

“-he’s in the shower.” Kenma finished, already turning back to Akaashi, seemingly unconcerned that his roommate’s decency was about to be violated. 

At the sound of Kuroo’s long, exaggerated scream, and a loud crash coupled with bellowing laughter from Bokuto, Kenma’s mouth quirked up in a small smile. He seemed to be in a good mood, Akaashi noticed, not without a hint of interest.

Akaashi Keiji was not a gossip and he was not a snoop. However, when it came to Kenma, tight-lipped, private Kenma, a little prying was not only necessary but encouraged. Since the beginning of their friendship, Akaashi and Kenma had played a strange little game with each other. They never discussed it in concrete, official terms, but that too, ended up being a part of the game. It always began with a secret, guarded carefully until the other chased it out into the open with irrefutable evidence. The sort of thing that worked only because both of them were freakishly competitive. Akaashi learned that Kenma was a semi-famous Twitch streamer an entire year into their friendship, after stumbling onto one of his videos online just by chance.

There were limits of course. Anything really important was relayed to the other in no uncertain terms, with no judgement. And the truth always uncovered. No matter what. A winner and loser always decided, tallies added to their mental scoreboards. 

The nature of Kenma and Kuroo’s relationship had been under review for a while. No hard evidence had been uncovered, yet, but Akaashi couldn’t drop his suspicion when he saw the way Kuroo’s eyes followed Kenma around the room, or how Kenma softened for Kuroo, ever so slightly, in a way Akaashi had never seen him do for anyone else.

“Sorry for the intrusion.” Akaashi bowed, deeper than he normally would to accommodate for Bokuto.

“Don’t worry about it.” Kenma waved him off, turning back into the apartment, “Come on in. I’m assuming Kuro’s dressed by now. I’ll grab your folder, it’s just in my book bag.”

“Ok.” Akaashi murmured, as he kicked off his shoes in favor of the house slippers that Kenma kept for him.

“I was surprised when Bokuto called me,” Kenma said, and even as Akaashi was kneeling to put his sneakers out of the way, he could feel the blonde’s eyes drilling into his back. The game was on.

Akaashi stood up and swept a strand of hair out of his face. “Is it that surprising for him to call out of the blue?”

Judging by Kenma’s sullen silence, it wasn’t. “I was surprised when Bokuto called me and said that he was with you.” He amended.

“We ran into each other on the street.”

“And you asked him to help find your missing folder?”

“He _offered_ to help find my missing folder after I tried to use it as an excuse to get away from him.”

“And then he walked you to my apartment.”

“He wanted to say hi to Kuroo.” Akaashi paused for a second before shooting a pointed look at Kenma, “Enjoy your shower?”

Kenma rolled his eyes, but he became quieter after that, more interested in the houseplants populating the small hallway than prying into Akaashi’s love life.

“Hey ‘Kaashi!” Bokuto peeked out from behind the corner, “You’ve got to come and see this impression that Kuroo does of his chemistry prof. It’s hilarious!”

Akaashi crinkled his brow, “I haven’t taken any chemistry here.”

“Come on.” Bokuto grinned and tugged on the end of Akaashi’s sleeve, unperturbed by his lack of enthusiasm, “You have to see it.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes and let Bokuto drag him further into the apartment. He did not miss Kenma’s gleeful grin as he mouthed ‘Kaashi?’.

He ended up staying for dinner. 

\---

At some point while Akaashi had been at Kenma and Kuroo’s the snow had dissipated into rain. The cold sort of rain that cut straight through Akaashi’s jacket and chilled him to the bone. Unwilling to let the folder out of his sight from the moment it was returned to him, Akaashi held it in his arms, shielding it from the rain with his body. By the time he had reached the dorm room door, he was dripping wet and his hair was already starting to frizz up as his hair product succumbed to the rain.

Akaashi swore under his breath as he struggled with the lock on the dorm room door. Since he moved in, the lock had been sticky and hard to manage, but no amount of complaining to maintenance was enough for them to bother to fix it. There was a trick to getting the door open, but it required two hands and a fair amount of shoving. The folder under his arm complicated things. 

When it finally opened, Akaashi let out a little yell of victory. The couple passing him in the hallway didn’t give him a second look. That was the best part about living in the dorms, Akaashi decided: the simple anonymity of being a tired, overworked college student. Kenma and Kuroo may have floor-to-ceiling windows, bamboo floors, consistently hot water, and privacy, but they couldn’t leave their apartment at 3 am in pajamas as they shoveled a toaster pastry into their mouth on the way to move their laundry to the dryer. It was the most pure type of freedom. An escape from the judgmental looks and side-eyes that had defined Akaashi’s high school life.

“Someone was out late!” A sing-song voice called out as Akaashi locked the door behind him.

Then again, Kenma and Kuroo might have a good thing going with that privacy thing.

“Hello Oikawa-san” Akaashi turned to his roommate, who was sprawled out on the bed, surrounded by notes and papers.

Oikawa turned his head to look at Akaashi, leaning his chin on one hand, “Where were you?”

Oikawa talked to Akaashi in a way that made it seem as though they were friends. They were not. There wasn’t any big glaring reason as to why they weren’t, just a bunch of little reasons piled up on top of each other. Like how Oikawa got up much earlier than Akaashi, which wouldn’t be a problem if he were able to get ready without turning on the blow dryer at full blast. Or how he took phone calls in the room, which also wouldn’t have been a problem if they happened at a time other than 3 in the morning. And how he mostly studied in bed, which he couldn’t care less about, except for when Akaashi was studying at his desk, which was immediately across from Oikawa’s bed so he always had this prickling feeling like Oikawa was looking over his shoulder.

“I was with some friends,” Akaashi finally said. He placed the folder on his desk, and his bag on the floor. Compared to Oikawa’s side of the room, Akaashi’s was barren. Those kinder than Akaashi might say that Oikawa’s side was ‘lived-in’, littered with textbooks and notes and day-old apple cores and empty yogurt cups. Akaashi just called it filthy. He much preferred his desk with all the pens in the proper place, and his notebooks stacked up in a neat pile.

“You have friends?!” Oikawa clapped at this and Akaashi began to regret that he hadn’t accepted Kenma’s offer to stay for a movie.

“I’ve always had friends.” Akaashi grumbled.

“Why don’t you bring them over? I want to meet some of your friends. You’ve met all of mine.”

This, Akaashi did not doubt. Sometimes he forgot that his door was the solid sort, that locked, when Oikawa and his friends treated it more like one of those glass revolving doors in department stores.

“Their apartment is nicer than the dorm,” Akaashi said, which was a non-answer, not that he cared.

“Your friends are upperclassmen?”

Akaashi nodded, and flipped open his laptop, hoping that this would signal an end to the conversation.

“Who? I might know them.”

It was easy to forget that Oikawa was a junior, same as Kuroo. Juniors didn’t typically live in the dorms, which explained why Oikawa had signed up for a random roommate, but Akaashi never pried into why Oikawa hadn’t gotten an apartment. He just assumed it was a scholarship thing.

“Kuroo and Kenma. But only Kuroo’s an upperclassman.”

“Kuroo!” Oikawa’s voice shone with recognition, and Akaashi wasn’t quite sure why that disappointed him so much. “The same Kuroo who recites the entire periodic table when he's drunk?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Who would have thought that you two would be friends?”

“He’s more of a friend by association.” Akaashi muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Oikawa perked up, “Could you help me get a spot on his club team?”

“His what?”

“You know, the club volleyball team. They have a ton of great players who didn’t want the commitment of playing at the collegiate level. Once a year they play the university team and usually do a pretty good job of holding their own.”

Kuroo had never mentioned this to Akaashi, or if he had, Akaashi didn’t remember him phrasing it as anything to be proud of.

Oikawa sighed, “I want to stuff Bokuto at least once.”

“Bokuto?”

Bokuto? The same Bokuto he spent most of the afternoon with? The Bokuto who dropped everything to help Akaashi look for a missing folder? That Bokuto?

“Bokuto Koutarou. He’s the ace for the university team.” Oikawa squinted at Akaashi and Akaashi squinted back. “They say he’s got a promising career, probably could make it pro if he ever wanted to. I’ve seen him around at parties and stuff but never got the chance to talk to him. Do you know him too?”

Akaashi paused. He wasn’t quite sure how much he wanted to share with Oikawa, who would definitely have at least a few follow up questions. He decided on a fairly convincing, “Not really.”

“Could you get me in? Or a tryout at least? So many people apply to the team that they accept on recommendation only.”

“I don’t think so.”

This was the truth. He hadn’t been kidding when he said that Kuroo was more of a friend by association. They were good at coexisting, having fun in the vicinity of each other, but Akaashi wasn’t sure that he had ever had a proper conversation with the man. 

“Of course not.” Oikawa flopped back on his schoolwork. His laptop looked dangerously close to falling off the bed, Akaashi almost went to catch it, but Oikawa’s arm swung out at the last moment and pulled it to a safer spot. “Nothing ever works out in my favor.”

This was oddly morose, especially coming from someone so constantly upbeat as Oikawa. They both fell silent, and Akaashi began typing out his essay. Before he fully focused in on his schoolwork, he stole one look at Oikawa, who was lying on the bed, on top of his notes and laptop and staring vacantly at the Kill Bill poster that had one corner peeling off the wall.

\---

Despite getting to bed at a somewhat reasonable time, Akaashi overslept. This wasn’t a huge setback. Since it was the weekend the only thing Akaashi was late to was his spot at the library. He took his time rolling out of bed, even though his mind was already running through the hours of studying that he had to do today.

It took him a bit to find his phone, which had slipped under his desk, and he was surprised to find ten unread text messages from an unknown number. No one had ever texted him that many times in a row before, so Akaashi figured that it was just a scam as he navigated to the app.

 **5:33 {Unknown}** hey kaashi! whatcha up to?

 **5:35 {Unknown}** i went to a café by my apartment and bought a sinnamon roll and it was bigger than my hand!

 **5:41 {Unknown}** if u like cinamon rolls I can take u here sometime. All the employees are so nice!

Attached was a slightly blurry picture of what Akaashi assumed to be a cinnamon roll. 

**6:32 {Unkown}** sorry! I forgot that it was so early! Hope I didn’t wake you up!

 **6:35 {Unknown}** I get up super early and sometimes I forget that not everyone is up when I am

 **6:36 {Unknown}** at least it’s a weekend so u could always go back to sleep

 **6:37 {Unknown}** or maybe you’re smart and turned off your ringer! you seem like the sort of person to think of stuff like that

 **6:43 {Unknown}** kenma said that before 2pm is early in the morning but i’m not sure i should believe him since he’s a gamer and sometimes is up all nite

 **6:56 {Unknown}** is this still too early? my roommates aren’t up yet so maybe it is

Akaashi had no question in his mind about who this unknown number was. Between the misspelling of cinnamon (twice) and the unabashed friendliness, this was definitely Bokuto. But Akaashi wanted to be sure, plus he had no idea how Bokuto even got his number. He hadn’t given it to him.

 **11:23 {Akaashi}** i’m sorry… who is this? how did you get my number?

Almost instantly, a new message lit up the screen.

 **11:24 {Unknown}** it’s Bokuto! sorry i got so excited that i forgot to tell you who i was lol. kenma gave me ur num ber last night

 **11:25 {Bokuto}** sorry if i seemed like a creep! do u like cinnamen rolls tho?

 **11:34 {Akaashi}** it’s alright Bokuto-san. yes, I do like cinnamon rolls.

Akaashi took longer than usual getting ready, mostly because of the more or less constant stream of texts from Bokuto. He wasn’t quite sure how, but sometime before they talked about their majors but after they discovered that they both played volleyball in high school, they had planned to meet for coffee later that week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, I'd love to hear about it in the comments! I read them, even if I might not respond bc i am: Very Awkward :)
> 
> Stay tuned for next time: Coffee Date? Coffee Hook-up? Coffee Meeting With a Perfectly Heterosexual Explanation? Who knows? (not Akaashi)


	3. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions are asked and answered

The week passed both slowly and quickly, much in the way that time does when you’re anticipating an event that you can’t quite make your mind up about. One moment Akaashi was about to cancel the meet up entirely, the next he was red-faced over some inane text from Bokuto. They had been texting constantly, more or less, at least much more constantly than Akaashi had ever texted someone before. If Akaashi dared to think about it much, he might have concluded that it was nice to have someone to share his day with, even if only virtually.

He frowned at his reflection in the mirror (which he was pretty sure that Oikawa had illegally screwed into the wall but it was convenient so he didn’t care much). Most days, Akaashi didn’t think much about what he wore. Clothes were supposed to be practical, not flashy. But on the few days when he wanted to look nice, he always found himself regretting this choice. He wished that he hadn’t turned down Oikawa’s offer to go thrift shopping because despite his many flaws, Oikawa dressed well and might have been able to breathe some life into Akaashi’s tired wardrobe.

After smoothing his hands over a sweater that he only bought because he liked the color (a soft forest green) and shaking his feet around in their Chelsea boots, Akaashi decided that this was good enough, if a bit boring. It wasn’t like he had many other options anyways.

“Hot date?” Oikawa peeked up from his pillows in interest.

Akaashi nearly jumped out of his skin. He had forgotten that Oikawa was still sleeping. Although, given the school papers covering the bed, it really wasn’t Akaashi’s fault for not realizing that Oikawa happened to be sleeping under all of that.

“No.” Akaashi said shortly, not in the mood to entertain Oikawa.

Even if he did feel like telling Oikawa anything, it wasn’t as though there was much to tell. Nothing in their texts had insinuated that it was a date. Bokuto had never said the word and neither had he. They were meeting as friends, surely. Besides, it was ridiculous to think that Bokuto had any interest in him. They had only been talking for a week. Akaashi had always been an outlier, a starry eyed romantic who fell too quickly and too hard for his own good. He had learned long ago that it was pointless to expect the same from others.

“Well you’re not going to the library. You never dress that nice to study.” Oikawa groused, running his hands through his hair which was mussed by sleep, “What are you doing?”

“I’m meeting a friend,”

“So there is a hot date!”

“Nope. He’s seriously just a friend. Sorry to disappoint.” 

“Boo.” Oikawa pouted before dropping his head back onto the pillow.

Akaashi waited a few moments, just to make sure that Oikawa was done with the conversation, not that he particularly cared. But last time that he had walked out in the middle of a conversation (casually, not even maliciously) Oikawa had gone on a trash strike, letting the trash pile up until it bothered Akaashi enough to take it out himself, even though they had both agreed that it was Oikawa’s chore.

Only when he heard a soft snore from under the papers did Akaashi grab his wallet and keys and head out the door.

\---

The café that Bokuto had chosen was more out of the way than Akaashi had expected. When Bokuto asked if he could pick, Akaashi agreed assuming that he was going to pick a Starbucks or some other chain. This place wasn’t either of those, tucked away between a hotel and a Chinese restaurant, the sign only visible if Akaashi stood right out in front of it and peered up. 

“Akaashi! Over here!”

Bokuto had claimed a table near the back, half-hidden by a potted shrub. The entire coffee shop was warm, in more ways than one. It was a coffee shop that Akaashi had always been afraid to go to, with the chalkboard menu loaded with alternative milks and coffee served in ceramic mugs that had to be returned when empty. The kind of place that made Akaashi feel like his favorite song was too mainstream and his jeans weren’t cut right. But Bokuto, who belonged here even less than Akaashi did, seemed right at home which put Akaashi a little more at ease. 

“Hello Bokuto-san, I hope you weren’t waiting for too long.”

“Not at all!” Bokuto beamed, “I know that it’s easy to walk past this place.”

There was a brief silence, as Akaashi tried to puzzle out whether he should sit down with Bokuto or go up and order his coffee.

“I waited to order till you got here.” Bokuto stood up and he was wearing jeans. Jeans.

Akaashi faltered for just a second before trailing after Bokuto towards the counter, where a bored barista wearing just a little bit more eyeliner than one would expect was engrossed in their phone.

Rationally, he knew that Bokuto wore more than just sweatpants and baggy tees. Maybe a part of him had even hoped for it. That did not mean that he was prepared for the harsh reality of it. Dark blue jeans. 

They ordered without fanfare. Apparently Bokuto frequented the place enough that the barista knew what his ‘just the usual’ was. Akaashi stumbled through his order but somehow managed to sound more put together than he felt.

“How was your week?” Bokuto asked, as he passed Akaashi’s coffee over to him.

“Busy,” Akaashi sighed, gripping the mug close to his chest during the quick walk back to their table, “I had a group project due and two days before it was due, one of my partners went MIA so I had to pick up the slack.”

“Did you get it done in time?”

“Barely,” Akaashi sighed once more before dragging his gaze up from his coffee mug to Bokuto, who sat across from him, “How was your week Bokuto-san?”

This prompted Bokuto to launch into a wild recap of his week which Akaashi found himself enjoying more than anyone should. For a second, he wished that he had ordered an iced coffee, just to slow down the soft warmth that had started deep in his chest and was spreading outwards. Affection, attachment, those two curses that come too fast, too soon, too easily to Akaashi.

This was a mistake. Surely. Bokuto had asked him as a friend and this was definitely not going anywhere and Akaashi had no right to be going to pieces just because college volleyball player decided to wear jeans which somehow looked better on him than jeans had the right to look on any person. He should just take the coffee, mug and all, and leave because that way he doesn’t get attached to the way that Bokuto looks at him with gold flecks in his eyes and this weird soft sort of smile on his face that is just threatening to break out into a full on beam when Akaashi answers. He can’t get used to this. This was a mistake and he should just walk out of the door because that’s easier, that’s so so so much easier than drawing this out.

“Akaashi?”

Bokuto was looking at him over his peppermint hot chocolate and there was a small smudge of whipped cream on his nose and Akaashi didn’t want to lick his finger and wipe it off and he definitely didn’t want to kiss it off either.

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

This was hell. Except hell was probably an improvement because at least then he wouldn’t have to think, he would just have to push a rock up a hill for eternity or something. That actually sounded pleasant, not unlike studying for his psych exam. Nothing to overthink, just a single, simple task in front of him. In hell he wouldn’t have to deal with the harsh reality of Bokuto sitting across from him, stirring his usual drink with a candy cane that apparently came with every order.

“You know that I like you right?”

.

.

“What?”

“I like you.” The candy cane was now in Bokuto’s mouth, dangling between his lips like a festive cigarette, “I think you’re pretty and smart and funny so I thought that I should tell you.”

Now this was a conundrum. There was a part of Akaashi that wanted to pull Bokuto in by the shirt collar and smash their faces together. But that was a rash, impulsive part of Akaashi, a part that he left out of the decision making process. The thoughtful, rational part of him held him back, because it had met Bokuto and had every right to be cautious.

Bokuto was straightforward, but he was also the sort of person to throw words around. Every coffee shop was his ‘favorite’, every professor was ‘the best’, every classmate was ‘the funniest’. It was certainly possible that Akaashi was reading too far into his words, that Bokuto liked Akaashi in the way that friends do: platonically.

And this was where the problem lay: he could never be ‘just friends’ with Bokuto. A few hours together and a week of texting back and forth was enough for Akaashi to be certain about this. No matter how much he tried there was always a quickening in his heart when he heard Bokuto’s text tone (yes he had given Bokuto a separate text tone), a strange smile on his face when Bokuto misspelled words, an impatient pull in his soul that insisted that this must be it, that Bokuto must be it.

Bokuto was looking at him like he expected some sort of response. This would make sense. That did tend to be how conversations worked. But no matter how much Akaashi tried to force himself to say: I like you too Bokuto-san, it wouldn’t leave his mouth. Not because he didn’t mean it. Because he meant it too much.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto leaned onto the table, “I’m sorry if I made any assumptions. Kenma mentioned something about an ex-boyfriend a few days ago so I thought that you might like me too.”

.

.

“What?”

“Akaashi are you okay?” Bokuto pressed the back of his hand to Akaashi’s forehead before pulling it back, seemingly satisfied with the reading, “You seem a little off.”

“I’m sorry, Bokuto-san” Akaashi pressed one hand to his temple, “But are you asking me out?”

“Yeah! Wasn’t that obvious?”

Akaashi almost laughed. Almost.

“No. It very much was not obvious. And I’m a little caught off guard given that we have made it approximately,” Akaashi pulled his wrist up, only to realize that he had forgotten his watch at the dorm, “ten minutes into our first coffee date before you decided to ask. That’s not exactly conventional.”

“Are you mad?” Bokuto sounded genuinely curious. He didn’t say it the way Akaashi would, full of self-loathing and anxiety.

“I’m not mad.” Akaashi reassured, “I’m happy you like me like that Bokuto-san, I just feel a little rushed. I need time.”

Time. Considering Akaashi’s history, this was a ridiculous request. He had never needed more time to figure out if he had feelings for someone, and he didn’t need time for that now. What Akaashi needed was an assurance. Some sort of guarantee that this whole thing wouldn’t blow up in his face. Maybe he could get that in time. He hoped he would.

“I can wait for you.” Bokuto said, “If you think that this is something that you might want, I can wait for you to be sure. We can do more things like this, so you can decide. Unless… you want to be just friends?”

“No, I don’t want to be just friends… but I don’t want you to resent me if I make you wait and I-“

“Akaashi.” Bokuto’s smile was soft, but his tone was more serious than Akaashi thought ever possible, “I’ll accept any outcome, as long as that’s what you want. I can wait for you to make your decision, no matter what it is.”

“Okay,” Akaashi breathed out, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

Bokuto smiled at him, and Akaashi smiled back and he decided right then and there that the inside of Bokuto’s mind must be a beautiful place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining Disaster Gay Akaashi time. This chapter was actually so much fun for me to write so I hope you had fun reading it! Let me know what you enjoyed in the comments! And a big thanks to everyone who has commented so far, y'all are so nice and I really appreciate all your kind words!
> 
> The next few updates might be a bit more sporadic than normal as I have midterms but I think they'll be worth the wait :)


	4. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an end and maybe a beginning

It was strange, how after that, Bokuto melded into Akaashi’s life, filling up all those spaces in his day that Akaashi hadn’t even noticed were empty until suddenly they were full. Instead of eating lunch out of a takeout container in his empty dorm room, Akaashi now found himself bumping knees with Bokuto as they shared the lunch special. Instead of turning up his headphones as loud as they go and marching home with his head down, he now walked with Bokuto, talking about his day, and his classes and everything in between. Instead of studying alone at his table for one, Akaashi now sat at one of the round tables in the library, large enough to accommodate Bokuto and Kiyoko and their conversation about Omega-3 fatty acids

Everything felt natural, inevitable even.

Bokuto was a familiar presence now. His loud bursts of laughter no longer startled Akaashi, his strange mood shifts no longer unmanageable, his bursts of motion no longer dizzying.

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi leaned back in his desk chair, craning his neck back to peer around the bed frame so he could make eye contact with Bokuto.

It was a study night. Normally these took place in the library, where Akaashi would huddle over his work while Bokuto made friends with the business majors at the next table. But midterms were approaching and they had gotten to the library just a few minutes too late and the tables were full and all of the sudden they were studying in Akaashi’s dorm room because for all the time that Akaashi spent with Bokuto, he had yet to learn how to properly say ‘no’.

“Yeah ‘Kaashi?”

“I’m probably going to work on this book analysis for a while so if you’re done or need to go home, there’s no need to stay on my behalf.”

Bokuto sat up a little, and hugged Akaashi’s Charmander plushie closer to his chest, “I have some more work I can be doing so I don’t mind staying... unless you want me to leave?”

A brief silence. Many of their conversations ended up here, in this awkward, tension-filled place where the line between friendship and more-than-a-friendship was blurry and hard to make out. Bokuto was always respectful, more than ready to give Akaashi the space he needed to make the call. Somehow that made things even worse. It almost always landed on Akaashi, this responsibility to pull them both out of the silence.

“You don’t have to leave Bokuto-san,” Is what Akaashi decided on, pairing it with a small smile, “I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t giving up your night for my sake.”

“Even if I was, I wouldn’t mind!” Bokuto said, “I like spending time with you even when you’re ignoring me to make faces at Wuthering Heights.”

“It really is a horrible book,” Akaashi scrunched his nose.

He wanted to say more, though he wasn’t sure what, but was interrupted by the soft scratching of a key being entered into the lock. This was paired with a loud giggle, which Akaashi recognized instantly.

“My roommate’s back?”

“Oh that’s cool!” Bokuto sat up, pushing his schoolwork to the side, “I’ve been wanting to meet your roommate.”

Akaashi checked his watch. 11:32pm. It was odd for Oikawa to be back at this hour. Saturday nights were when Oikawa would vanish for 12 to 24 hours, out doing undisclosed activities. Judging the state that he would usually return in, Akaashi could only assume that they were ungodly.

Oikawa finally got the door open, practically tumbling in, tailed closely by a tall, dark, handsome stranger.

“Oh Akaashi!” Oikawa’s smile dropped off his face. Compared to how they were when they came through the door, him and the stranger were standing stiffly, too far apart. “Why are you here?”

“Last time I checked this was also my room.” Akaashi furrowed his brow.

Oikawa didn’t seem as embarrassed as Akaashi wanted him to be, “But I texted you that I was going to need the room and you said that you weren’t in my room.”

“Are you sure that it was me that you texted and not someone else?”

Oikawa pulled out his phone and tapped furiously at it for a few seconds. From his grimace, Akaashi knew that his guess was correct.

“Hey ‘Kaashi, we could always go to my apartment and you could study there.” Bokuto piped up, breaking the stifling silence that had fallen over the room.

“Oh Bokuto-san, I couldn’t impose-“

“Bokuto-san?” Oikawa brightened at this, and Akaashi wanted to melt into the floor, “As in Bokuto Koutarou of the Black Jackals?”

“That’s me!” Bokuto grinned, “Are you a volleyball fan?”

“More of a player,” Oikawa walked past Akaashi and stood across from Bokuto, “I played in high school and have been trying to get onto the club team for ages.”

“What position do you play?”

“Setter.”

Bokuto’s smile got even wider, “This is an insane coincidence but the setter for the club team just quit! Me and Kuroo are pretty close so I could probably get you a try out if you want.”

“You’d do that?” Oikawa looked like he was about to leave the stranger he came in with for Bokuto.

“A friend of Akaashi’s is a friend of mine!”

Akaashi decided that he wanted to be anywhere but here as soon as possible. If that meant intruding on Bokuto’s apartment, then so be it. Peering at the stranger through his eyelashes, Akaashi figured that the man was feeling about the same way. His hands were shoved in his jacket’s pockets, and he was more or less glowering as Oikawa and Bokuto compared hand sizes (an activity initiated by Oikawa of course).

“Should we get going Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked, already packing up his school bag.

Bokuto bounced off the bed and shoved all his papers unceremoniously into his backpack. A few crinkled and bent, and Akaashi couldn’t help but cringe. “Yep! I’m ready!”

“Nice to meet you.” Bokuto waved to Oikawa and then the stranger, who had yet to relax his shoulders.

Oikawa waved back, “Hopefully I’ll see you on the court Bokuto-chan!”

Akaashi quickly checked his pockets for his key before motioning at Bokuto to close the door.

“Your roommate’s nice!” Bokuto said as they ambled towards the elevator, “You never told me that he played volleyball!”

Akaashi shrugged, “We’re not really close.”

“Really?”

“Does that surprise you?”

It was Bokuto’s turn to shrug as he pushed the button for the elevator. “Sorta, it seems like you two could be close.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re serious and he isn’t.” Bokuto smiled as the elevator dinged.

Akaashi frowned, “That’s not a reason.”

“It’s just a feeling,” Bokuto shrugged once more, “I feel like you two would be good at taking care of each other.”

“Huh.”

\---

“Do you want anything to drink?” Bokuto shrugged his bag off and threw it on the floor, “We’ve got water and maybe chocolate milk, it could be expired though.”

The walk to Bokuto’s apartment was shorter than Akaashi expected, only a quick five minutes down a side street, but even if the walk had been seven hours, it wouldn’t have been enough time to prepare Akaashi for the mess that awaited him. Dishes piled up in the sink, shirts piled around the entrance, the couch all but buried under gym bags and empty cans of Monster energy.

“Bokuto-san, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” Akaashi said, edging away from a suspicious item on the small kitchen table that he was willing to pretend wasn’t a jockstrap, “But I don’t think I can study in your apartment.”

“Sorry,” Bokuto ran his hand through his hair, “My roommates, Hinata and Atsumu, are both in the Black Jackals with me so we really only have time to clean on Sundays. This is the worst that it usually ever gets. We can go to my room though! It’s cleaner.”

Akaashi nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from the collection of sweaty socks draped over the tv set. He couldn’t fathom a reason for laying them out to dry like that, much less on top of the television. The only saving grace was that by some miracle the apartment smelled okay. Not great, but there was a slight undertone of lemon that wasn’t unpleasant.

Bokuto’s room was at the back of the apartment, down a hallway, past a few closed doors which Akaashi assumed were his two roommate’s bedrooms. 

“Desk or bed?” Bokuto asked as he opened the door and threw his backpack on the ground.

For the most part, Bokuto’s room _was_ cleaner than the rest of the apartment. The laundry was contained to one single basket, and the floor wasn’t cluttered. Akaashi glanced at the desk, which wasn’t dirty per se, but still cluttered with papers and empty bowls and pens and pencils, and then at the bed, which wasn’t made but at least had the crème colored comforter pulled up.

“I’ll take the bed.” Akaashi decided.

Akaashi perched on the bed, trying his best not to look too nosy as he peeked around the room. Other than a few volleyballs piled in the corner and a calendar hanging on the wall, the room was mostly bare. The only points of interest were the bed, the desk adjacent, and the closet which was across from the bed.

“Do you like it?” Bokuto spun in the desk chair, hitting his foot on the desk as he came around a second time.

Akaashi stifled a laugh as Bokuto hunched over his big toe in exaggerated pain.

“It’s nice. I honestly thought that it would have a lot more going on.”

“Like Oikawa’s side of the room?” Bokuto grinned.

Akaashi smiled back, “Yeah, like that. But I like this better.”

“Me too.” Bokuto stretched his arms above his head as he looked around, “I don’t spend much time here so I don’t really think about decorating much.”

Akaashi nodded and they settled into a comfortable silence, Akaashi hunched over his laptop, Bokuto leaned back in his chair, head bopping to some song playing only in his head. He wasn’t quite sure if Bokuto was even doing any real work, but about halfway into a heated discussion post about socialism, Akaashi lost track of most his surroundings. He didn’t realize that it was getting late until his eyelids started drooping and the words started swimming on the page. Oikawa hadn’t texted the all clear, and there was nowhere else to go, so Akaashi decided to surrender to his exhaustion. As he drifted off, he could see Bokuto, drumming out a beat on his desk, and smiling at nothing.

\---

Akaashi woke up sweaty and confused. At some point he had fallen asleep on top of his schoolwork. Some point after that Bokuto had put all his papers in a neat pile, and for lack of a better term, “tucked” Akaashi into bed. Anything after that had surely been a dream, like the way that Bokuto’s arm had draped over him in the middle of the night, or the way that Bokuto had softly snored into the crook of Akaashi’s neck.

“You’re up!” Bokuto turned around from where he was standing in front of the closet, not wearing nearly enough clothes. Akaashi’s eyes first fell to Bokuto’s waist, where a towel hung precariously, only held up by Bokuto’s fist gripping it together at his hip. Akaashi couldn’t exactly say where his eyes went next, although he liked to think that they landed very chastely on the towel draped over Bokuto’s hair.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Akaashi choked out, untangling himself from the sheets. He became briefly aware of how the sweatshirt he was wearing was not his, and neither were the sweatpants, and how not even his socks felt familiar, the heel just a bit too high up for them to be his. 

“Oh, uh, first door to your left.” Bokuto’s eyebrows pulled together, but he stepped back to let him pass. 

Akaashi stumbled out and into the bathroom. He barely had the door closed before slumping down on the ground, forehead pressed to his knees. If he could have cried he would have but his eyes remained stubbornly dry, perhaps because they weren’t quite sure what there was to be sad about.

Bokuto liked Akaashi. Akaashi, despite his many insecurities, could not deny that he liked Bokuto. That should have made it simple then, for Akaashi confess, and for them to then jump from friends to more-than-friends. But it wasn’t simple. Friendships were stable, they were low stakes and if they failed, it was usually a crumble rather than an explosion. Relationships were turbulent, high-stakes, explosive if handled wrong. Akaashi couldn’t handle another explosion.

Akaashi gripped his phone tight in his hands. He didn’t remember grabbing it as he left the room, it must have been habit. Turning it on, too, was habit, a familiar action in an unfamiliar place, even though there was nothing on his phone that he particularly cared about.

He stared blankly at the screen for a few seconds before focusing on the notifications. 5 missed texts from Kenma. That was odd. This didn’t seem like much, especially when Bokuto would often spam his phone with paragraphs about an interaction he had, but from Kenma, it was akin to calling someone 10 times consecutively.

 **10:12 {Kenma}** don’t forget the eggs, we don’t have any

 **10:14 {Kenma}** if you miss the bus again, just text me and Kuroo can come pick you up

 **10:41 {Kenma}** Where are you?

 **10:50 {Kenma}**??

 **10:54 {Kenma}** you better be dead in a ditch somewhere Keiji, i swear

Brunch. Akaashi had forgotten brunch. Their weekly tradition where Kuroo would cook up breakfast foods for the three of them while Kenma and Akaashi struggled through their homework from the philosophy class that they shared. 

**11:13 {Akaashi}** sorry i completely forgot. i’m at Bokuto’s apartment

 **11:13 {Kenma}** ew. why

 **11:14 {Akaashi}** i think i’m in love with him

Wasn’t he? Wasn’t this feeling love? This sensation that kept pulling Akaashi towards Bokuto, towards all the stability and kindness and comfort that he could provide? Was that love? Or was it something else? Loneliness maybe. Desperation. Delusion. But could loneliness explain how even when Akaashi didn’t want to see anyone else, he would always make room for Bokuto? Could desperation explain how Akaashi didn’t think about having a relationship with anyone other than Bokuto? Could delusion explain what Bokuto told him in the coffee shop?

 **11:16 {Kenma}** ew. why

Akaashi couldn’t help but laugh, pressing the phone’s cool edge to his forehead. Why was he in in love with Bokuto? Because Bokuto was kind, because he worked hard, because he was silly and childish and smart and loud and strong and good and because he had everything that Akaashi admired in a person, because everything that Akaashi felt he lacked, Bokuto had in spades.

“Akaashi?” A knock on the door. “Are you okay?”

Akaashi’s head jerked up, and he was surprised to feel tears streaming down his face. Had he been crying? Had Bokuto heard him?

“Bokuto-san, can I ask you a question?” Akaashi’s voice trembled, stuck in the back of his throat, the way it usually was after he had been crying.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Why did you tell me that you liked me?” 

There was a brief pause, during which the door shuddered, which Akaashi realized was Bokuto sliding down to sit against the door.

“Because it’s true and I don’t like to keep truths like that away from people,” Bokuto’s voice was closer now, still muffled by the door, but Akaashi could now feel the rumble of it by his head, “Do you wish that I hadn’t told you?”

“Sometimes.” Akaashi said and he hated how pathetic he sounded in that moment, like a child who wasn’t really hurt, but just thought they should be. 

“Why?” 

Akaashi was glad that Bokuto couldn’t see him, glad that he could stare petulantly at the floor and pout without fear of judgement. “It made everything complicated.”

“But sometimes, isn’t all the complicated worth it? Don’t you think that we could be worth it?”

“Maybe.”

“Only maybe?” There was hurt there, creeping into Bokuto’s voice and it hurt Akaashi too, much more than he thought it ever could.

“I don’t think I could bear it when it all goes wrong. That’s what relationships do, don’t they? Go wrong?”

And the going wrong was always so horrible. The going wrong made Akaashi so horrible. He always went just one step too far, and he only ever noticed when their smile slid from their eyes and he didn’t want to do that to Bokuto.

“Akaashi?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course, Bokuto-san.”

“Then can you trust that even when things go wrong, that I’m going to try my best to make things right?”

Akaashi nodded before realizing that Bokuto couldn’t see him, “Yeah.”

“And can you promise that even when things go wrong, you’ll try your best too?”

Try his best. Bokuto made it sound so simple, but just this once, Akaashi was going to let him get away with it. Try his best. Akaashi could try, Bokuto made him want to try.

“Yeah, I promise.”

“Akaashi?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in now?”

Even though he was crying again, Akaashi was able to let out one strangled laugh as he scooted away from the door. With the door opened, they sat on their knees for one second, staring at each other. Akaashi wasn’t sure if he had ever noticed how expressive Bokuto’s eyebrows could be.

“Akaashi, you’re crying.” Bokuto said at last, one hand drifting up towards Akaashi’s face.

Akaashi smiled, “Not sad tears.”

“Happy tears?”

“I think so.”

“Akaashi?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Bokuto’s hand was already on Akaashi’s cheek, his thumb wiping away tears as they fell. His face was already so close to Akaashi’s, their noses practically touching. It only took one small move from Akaashi for their lips to connect.

Akaashi didn’t understand why people in books described kisses as fireworks or explosions or anything so violent. Kissing Bokuto wasn’t like any of those things. Kissing Bokuto was like stepping into dewy grass first thing in the morning. Kissing Bokuto was like getting out of a swimming pool and being cold under the hot afternoon sunlight. Kissing Bokuto was like the smell of air after it first rains, like a spring breeze, like the crunch of autumn leaves. It was pure and cool and fresh and present.

When they parted, Akaashi let his forehead rest on Bokuto’s for just a second and looked at the floor. In the middle of the crisis, he hadn’t noticed the filth that was built up on the once-white tiles. A cockroach ran past Bokuto’s leg. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” Bokuto sounded wounded, “Was I that bad?”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi was laughing harder now, “Your bathroom is filthy.”

Bokuto pouted, “It’s Atsumu’s turn to clean but instead of cleaning it, he just uses the gym bathrooms to get ready in the morning.”

Akaashi couldn’t stop laughing, and at some point Bokuto started to laugh with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope y'all enjoyed! 
> 
> Leaving this fic unfinished was a bit of a stressor for me and while this wasn't quite where I intended to leave it, I am happy to have them here for now.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who read and commented! Y'all were the reason that I managed to bring you this ending!!! ILY


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